Suspension
by paperstorm
Summary: Part of my Deleted Scenes series. The tag for 'Roadkill', 2x16. Implied past Wincest.


**Contains dialogue from the episode 'Roadkill', it belongs to Eric Kripke and Raelle Tucker.**

**Part of my Deleted Scenes series. Full list of fics in reading order available on my profile page. They will make more sense if read in order. :)**

* * *

Sam flips through the pages of the book, his heart sinking as he looks down at pictures of Greeley and his wife looking happy and completely in love. He hates it when the spirits they hunt turn out to have been good people, which happens more often than not. The woman sitting next to him right now is proof of that. He's still not entirely sure he likes their plan for Molly, even though it was his idea. They can't tell her what she really is – she'd never believe them and if she takes off and they lose track of her, she won't show herself again for another year – but he's not sure attempting to reason with her is any better. In Sam's experience, most ghosts aren't all that willing to talk things out. They just want to cause other people the same pain they suffered. But, since there's no body to burn, negotiating is kind of the only play they have left. And, unfortunately, they need her to draw Greeley out. If Molly moves on but Greeley's spirit isn't put to rest, he'll have no reason to reappear and then they may never find him.

"It's a love letter he wrote," Molly is saying, and there's a faint creak from the hallway that Sam thinks might be Dean listening in on their conversation. "My god, it's beautiful. I don't understand how a guy like this can turn into that monster."

Sam pauses, and then he says, "Um … well, spirits like Greeley are, uh, like wounded animals. Lost, in so much pain they … they lash out."

"Why? Why are they here?" Molly asks.

"Well, there's some part of 'em that … that's keeping 'em here. Like their remains, or, um, unfinished business."

"Unfinished business?"

"Yeah, uh … " Sam exhales. "It could be revenge, could be love, or hate. Whatever it is, they just hold on too tight. Can't let go. So they're trapped. Caught in the same loops. Replaying the same tragedies over and over."

The last part, Sam said for Dean's benefit, assuming he actually is there listening to them and Sam's pretty sure he is. Sam's talking about spirits, but he's talking about _them_ too, and if Dean's there he'll pick up on that. Sometimes it is almost like their lives are stuck on repeat, that no matter what they do they're doomed to live out the same disasters again and again until one of them snaps and forces them to make a right turn. Like Dean did when he said they couldn't be together anymore, which is something Sam's been trying really, really hard not to think about because it makes him feel like screaming.

"You sound almost sorry for them," Molly says softly.

"Well they weren't evil people, you know? A lot of them were good, they just … something happened to 'em. Something they couldn't control."

If anything gets Dean to stop eavesdropping it'll be that, because Sam knows Dean will take that comment as Sam talking about himself, his destiny, and Dean hasn't been letting him do that. He keeps insisting that he's going to save Sam even if it kills him, and it isn't that Sam doesn't believe him, he just thinks it's more complicated than that. There are things that Dean can't control, as much as he'd like to.

Just like Sam knew he would, Dean steps into the room and jokes, "Sammy's always gettin' a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to things like this." And where a month ago the affectionate, brotherly teasing would have had Sam rolling his eyes on principle but smiling on the inside, now it just hurts. He supposes he's going to have to get used to that.

* * *

Sam doesn't speak as they drive away. He keeps glancing at the side mirror, almost expecting to see Molly appear on the road behind them. It seems too easy, that she just believed them and accepted it and then let go and moved on. He'd like to be able to just be happy that his plan worked and they set her free, but it isn't very often that things in his life work out so well. He's a little cynical, maybe, but he figures he has every right to be.

"You, uh … you were really good back there," Dean says quietly. "Talked her right off the ledge, you should'a been a hostage negotiator or somethin'."

"She wasn't bad," Sam answers, and his voice comes out flat and emotionless. Dean's trying to be nice, probably, but Sam isn't in the mood. "She was just scared, and stuck. She wasn't hurting anyone on purpose."

"Yeah, I know that. And it worked, your whole kindergarten share-circle thing. I didn't really think it would, but it did."

"I wasn't sure it would either. We got lucky, I guess." Sam shrugs and doesn't look over at Dean even though he can feel Dean's eyes on him, and Dean sighs.

"Just take the compliment, would ya? I'm saying you did good, emo-boy."

Sam nods absently, glancing back at the mirror. He's only halfway paying attention to what Dean's saying, and Dean sighs again. Sam knows he hasn't been that easy to be around lately, but he figures he's entitled to that too. Somehow, they managed to get past the part where they were angry with each other, but now they've descended into this strange limbo where they're not together – romantically, sexually, whatever – but they're not really brothers again yet either. Normally, given the opportunity, Sam knows he'd probably be talking Dean's ear off about all the gray areas in their job that Dean doesn't see and the moral complexities of what they do and whether any other spirits or monsters they've hunted were good people once who never meant to hurt anyone. But Sam doesn't do any of that.

There isn't a single inch of him that's okay with what Dean did, but Sam's not going to fight with him about it anymore either. He's too tired, physically and emotionally and mentally and whatever other way there is to be completely exhausted down to the bone. He's tired of arguing, tired of being sad and angry and of wishing things could be different. He's tired of every little piece of sunshine in his life being squashed out just as he's starting to dare to hope it won't be. It was the same with Jessica. Sam spent most of their relationship constantly on edge, enjoying her but always waiting for the other shoe to drop because it was too good to be true that he could just have her and go to school and be _happy_. As happy as he could ever be without Dean, anyway. It may not have been true happiness but it was as close as Sam thought he'd ever get. And just when he finally started letting his guard down, letting himself believe he could keep her forever, she was gone.

He loved her, but what he felt for her was only ever a fraction of what he felt for Dean. What he _feels_ for Dean. Sam usually tries not to let himself get his hopes up, but this time he did, and it hurts that much more because of it. Being with Dean – being with him for _real_, not like when they were kids and sometimes they'd go weeks at a time without touching because Dad was around and they had to hide it – was more than Sam had ever dared to believe he'd have. And now that's gone too. He misses Dean like a severed limb even though Dean's right there beside him; he aches inside until it feels like he's going to throw up and he wants so much to turn back the clock to the night Dean ended things between them and stop Dean from doing it. But he can't, and he's not going to beg Dean to take him back if that isn't what Dean wants. Sam may be heartbroken, but he has more respect for himself than that.

Or, maybe, he's just lost the will to fight back. Either way, there's a hole in Sam's chest that he can't foresee going away any time soon. By this point in his life, after everything that's happened, Sam thinks he really should be used to being miserable. It really sucks that he isn't.


End file.
